Bold Tigers
by King Henry the V
Summary: The Zaentradi War told from the perspective of two survivors from the Prometheus after the deadly, first hyperspace fold.


Disclaimer: Robotech and Macross do not belong to me. The United States Air Force does not belong to me, nor does the 366th Wing. All the characters are entirely fictional, and any similarities with real individuals are coincidence.

Most of the _Prometheus_ fighter pilots were in the shipboard Flight Lounge. They were sore about being posted on an aircraft carrier when the new front was in space, but few let the situation really get them down. The television screen showed SDF-1's launching ceremony. Only military personnel stationed aboard Earth's flagship were allowed to attend in person.

Russell "RV" Vincent, a rookie veritech pilot, cradled a beer in his hands and grinned at the show. "The Skulls really are impressive. Envy of every veritech pilot out there." Joe Gannon rolled his eyes. Willy Tegyr and "Kirk" Kirchmeyer nodded in agreement.

"I put in for transfer six times," Kirk told them. Willy shook his head empathically, and RV smirked at the admission.

"Just what I wanted to hear from my Section leader," Joe growled. "Don't forget who we are. _Lieutenant_."

Kirk ignored Joe's insular tone. "We're obsolete. There's no need for a ground attack squadron in a space war."

Before Joe could say something he might have regretted, Willy sided with the Section Leader. "He's right, you know. The Gunfighters won't be called into action until the enemy has a foothold on Earth. We won't matter much once it gets that far."

RV could not miss the tension among the three Gunfighter veterans. There was history, and he knew an old argument when he heard one. On the television set, the Skull veritechs released different-colored smoke trails. "Oh, pretty colors!" The others turned and gave him funny looks. All the same look, really. Then Joe chuckled.

"Yeah. Pretty smoke." Joe was disgusted, but there was little he could do. The Gunfighters had been impressive enough in the Global War. Their attitudes had changed since then. He needed to talk about something else. "How about them Yankees?"

RV took up the bait. "Red Sox are going to win again. Just like they did in '04."

"February is a little soon to call Boston for the World Series, don't you think?" asked Kirk.

Joe winked. "I'm putting my money on the Mets. Forget the Yankees." RV laughed. "Just don't root for Atlanta, and we won't result to fisticuffs." Willy walked away while the others forced a chuckle; he had always hated sports. "I've had enough, too. I'm off to take a nap."

"Nap?" asked the Section Leader, incredulously.

"That's right. Got a problem with that, Kirk?"

Kirk narrowed his eyes. RV cut in, "Sounds like a plan. See you later, Lieutenant." RV followed Joe to their shared stateroom.

Xxxxx

Reality came back with a gentle shake and a kid's worried voice. "We screwed up, Prey."

Joe rubbed his face. "What are you talking about?" He sat up and faced RV. The rookie did not have a pleasant expression.

"Macross Island was attacked by the aliens." Now fully awake, Joe slammed a fist into the bulkhead. "We missed the battle, slept right through it. Kirk is going to be so pissed off."

On cue, Lt. Kirchmeyer walked in. Judging by the force he used to open the door, Kirk was about as angry as it got. "Great job, you two. Get your flight suits on, I want you in your veritechs and ready to launch."

Joe and RV looked at each other. "Are we on alert?"

"No. Your veritechs won't even be armed. Stay in the cockpits for the next duty shift."

"Eight hours?" they asked in unison.

Kirchmeyer smiled. Their reaction seemed to assuage his anger. "I expect you in the hangar bay in fifteen minutes." The Lieutenant exited the stateroom and left the door open. The two pilots donned their flight suits.

"Kirk is the worst kind of scum," RV said. "Don't get me wrong, I love veritechs. Sitting in a cockpit for eight hours is not my idea of a good time."

"After sleeping through a battle, it could be worse," Joe said as they made their way to the hangar. "He could have us sit in the cockpits with our oxygen masks on."

"Not a bad idea." The roommates froze. "And radio silence." Kirchmeyer pointed towards a pair of brown-trimmed veritechs. The Chief who helped Joseph into the veritech gave him a compassionate look.

"I'm lodging a complaint with the Captain," the Chief said to Lt. Kirchmeyer. "I don't want my – "

"Complain all you want, Chief. These 'pilots' neglected their duty in a time of war. It's either this or the brig." The Chief wanted to opt for the brig, Joe noticed. He hurriedly sealed the canopy so he would miss the rest of the conversation.

The veritech was running on power from the _Prometheus_, so only the electrical and environmental systems were online. His microphone was currently switched off. He knew what would happen if he tried to use the radio. Joe settled in for a very long wait.

"Alien forces are approaching from the sea!" shouted a very surprised voice over the radio. Joe toggled the multi-functional display (MFD). Information came in through the command network. The pilot itched to launch, but was forced to watch the battle from his three display screens.

Movement outside the cockpit caught his attention. RV made frantic hand gestures. Just as confused as the rookie, Joe replied with an "I don't know" gesture. RV gave him two thumbs up. Then SDF-1 attempted a hyperspace fold and the Earth vanished.

A portion of the bay had been exposed to the open sea air. Only now it was open starry vacuum. Everything in the hanger was blown outward, starting with small tools and tech crews. After twenty seconds, even the fighters were dragged towards the opening. Joe decided that the orders for radio silence were now null and void. He toggled the radio. "RV, start up your engines. Something's happened, and we're not doing any good in here." Joe activated his veritech's engines. The expected rumble of a starting engine never came. He pressed the switch again.

"Your APU has a veritech sticking out of it," RV supplied. Joe looked over his shoulder. Another VF-1 Valkyrie was dangerously close to his own. It had probably severed the outside electrical connection to his veritech. He was now running on battery power only. "Don't worry, I'll get you out of there." RV's veritech changed to guardian mode, the rear half of his engine nacelles transforming into legs. RV reached out with his veritech's arms and disconnected the cockpit from the fuselage. The entire nose section of the fighter was attached to RV's right forearm.

RV searched the hangar for other survivors. "Nobody..." Joe also looked around the room from his perch. "They're all dead. I can't contact the tower on the radio." There was another pause as the younger pilot tried to make sense of their situation. "_Prometheus_ wasn't made for space travel. How'd we get up here, anyway?"

"Worry about that later. Signal SDF-1." The 366th Gunfighters were half of the _Prometheus_'s fighter complement, and all the pilots were still aboard the carrier. Or floating in space. Their proud history was reduced to nothing in the blink of an eye. "Only two of us left."

Over the radio, Joe heard RV's voice. "Bolt-12 to SDF-1. Bolt-12 to SDF-1, please come in."

"This is Commander Hayes," came the operator's strained voice. "Please standby, pilot."

RV acknowledged. "What do you say we blast out of here, Prey?"

"No thanks," Joe grumbled, taking the question literally. "I don't need another Court Marshal."

The rookie chuckled in response, as if the complaint had been a joke. Bolt-12's engines kicked in and the veritech launched from the hangar elevator. Commander Hayes came back on the radio. "Bolt-12, this is SDF-1. You are ordered to land on the flight deck immediately. Then you can explain how you managed to survive."

Xxxxx

The Following Day

Captain Gloval stared at one of the two men in front of him. The weight of the previous day's battle and its aftermath was heavy on the captain's shoulders, but he was somehow able to remain on his feet. "The Gunfighters may never again be what they once were. Your unit served with distinction against the Anti-Unification League, and it would trouble me greatly if that legacy were to disappear. Especially as a result of my actions. I am restoring your rank and putting you in command of the Gunfighters, effective immediately."

RV glanced at his former roommate, caught completely off-guard. A petty officer's rank insignia was clearly visible on Joe's shoulder. Had the Court Marshal remark been something other than a wise crack?

"Sir. With all due respect, my commission was revoked for a reason."

"Yes, it was," Gloval was quick to say. "I have had time to review your Court Marshal, and I disagree with the Tribunal's decision. Even in war, lives come first. I know I can trust an officer who understands that. Serve with distinction and no one on Earth will dispute your rank."

Joe stood a little straighter. "Thank you, sir."

"In the meantime, join the other veritech squadrons on their current assignment. You are both dismissed." Joe and RV filed off the bridge.

"What on Earth just happened? You outranked Kirk?" RV was aware that his questions were odd, but the strangeness of the situation far outweighed his response. "What was that Court Marshal about?"

"I'd rather not talk about it." Joe slipped by a few of SDF-1's crewmembers and made his way back to the hangar. He concentrated on the direction while RV held back more questions. Those that RV did utter went unanswered. "Good morning!" he shouted to a cluster of techs on the flight deck. "Do you have a veritech for me?"

One of them addressed him. "That depends. What's your name, pilot?"

"Lt. Commander Gannon, from the _Prometheus_."

RV started. Joe's self-introduction was the first he hint he had at the man's former position.

"_Prometheus_?" The tech's eyebrows threatened to raise above his hairline. "I didn't know anyone from the carriers was still alive. They were all supposed to be floating in void." RV flinched, but his superior did not react. "We brought over a few veritechs earlier. Right this way, Commander." The tech led them down the hanger to a row of fighters trimmed in green. The last one in the row was teal. "All I've got is these from Bold Tiger Squadron." RV noted the tail markings: a tiger head with a four-pointed star behind it. "But I don't have enough techs to service them."

"What's your name?" Joe suddenly wanted to know.

The tech looked at him oddly. "Chief Zimmer."

"Zimmer, Tiger-1 happens to have my name on it. Give me an APU, and I can handle the rest."

Zimmer smiled. "All right. What about your boy here?"

"Mine is the Thunderbolt that landed yesterday. It should be ready to go."

"Crazy kid. You have no idea what kind of work goes into keeping a veritech operational, do you?"

Joe laughed, and the tech eventually joined in. "I'll set him up on Tiger-2. Flight school isn't what it used to be. Have a good one, Chief."

"Right on, Commander." Zimmer walked off to get back to work.

"What were you two laughing about? Veritechs hardly require any downtime."

"That doesn't mean none," Joe countered, sobering up. "Come on, let me show you what I mean." Joe led RV to Tiger-1 and Tiger-2. RV was surprised to see that the teal-trimmed Tiger-1 read: lt cmdr joseph 'prey' gannon.

Much of that morning fell into place for RV. His former roommate was none other than the famed leader of Bold Tiger Squadron. Joe's motivation to stay in the service was much greater than RV could have guessed if the man was willing to accept a demotion from commander to petty officer. "You must have lost command recently, if they didn't even change the lettering."

Joe ran some fingers along Tiger-1's nose. He explained the craft's various systems in more detail than the flight manual as they waited for the APU to arrive.

"Where do you want this?" asked the tech. Joe told him to leave it there, and the enlisted man went back to his assigned duties.

Distraction gone, he continued. "Our maintenance crews are dead, so it's up to us to work on our own fighters. They're probably going to take planes away from us to replace casualties. The Thunderbolts can go first. No matter what happens, I want the Bold Tigers and Wild Boars to survive."

"Sir? Why did Captain Gloval give you command of a wing that has all of two people in it? It would make more sense to disband and reassign."

"I'm not sure," Joe admitted. "The assumption is that Gloval plans on getting us more pilots. He made a place for us aboard SDF-1, and I won't give the Captain a chance to regret it. Especially with everything..." Something else occurred to him, just then. So many lives had been destroyed when Gloval ordered the hyperspace fold. Despite the horrors of the day, Joe realized that part of him was more at peace than he had been since the Court Marshal. Captain Gloval had given him hope.


End file.
